Which made me a huge asshole. Bringing a date to Nathan’s bar and flaunting him around in front of him.Dick move, Colt.In my defense, it’s not his bar, and I didn’t intend to flaunt it. Intentions didn’t mean much to my stomach, though. I spent the last twenty-four hours with it twisted up in knots over what I would say tonight. Do I come out and ask him? Give him hints that I want to date him. Push him up against a wall and kiss him?
No matter how long I stand on the front porch, the answer doesn’t come to me. Rattling inside catches my attention, and I decide to knock before Nathan discovers me standing out here thinking.
“Come on in. The door’s open.”
I take my shoes off in the entryway and leave them beside his. “Hey.” I find him in the kitchen, bent over the counter and staring at his phone.
“Hey.” He’s wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. I wish I’d thought of changing into something more comfortable. My khakis and polo shirt are a good fit for casual Friday at work, but a little stuffy for a casual night in. “Thanks for dinner. I hope this is okay.” I motion toward the six-pack in my hand. “I haven’t tried it before, but the guy at the shop recommended it when I asked about local microbreweries.”
“Looks good. I haven’t had that one, but I’ve had others from that brewery. They’re pretty good. Pizza should be here in a few minutes. I wanted to cook, but time got away from me, and I left work later than I expected.”
“No worries. I didn’t expect you to cook. I’m always up for takeout.”
He snorts. “Yeah, I was hoping I could break you of that habit.”
“I think I’m a lost cause.” His place looks the same as I remember it from a few weeks ago. This time, I can take in the minimalistic decor. Unlike my place, it isn’t bare because he lacks things but has the minimalist aesthetic down. “The sofa you helped me pick out showed up earlier this week. At least I can cross that off my list. Thanks for helping.” I had a long way to go, but at least now I had a decent start.
“Good. Is it like you remember it from the store?”
The memory of him up over my legs on the couch pops up into my mind. I long for that effortless, playful nature between us. “You were right. The little flecks of color are much better. They tie everything together. Not that I have much.”
He grunts at me while staring at his phone. “I’m gonna grab the pizza. Be right back.” I stand uncomfortably in the kitchen momentarily before deciding to jump in. I grab plates from thecabinet and some napkins and set them out on the counter. The kitchen table is still buried in piles of paper and books. I grab two of the beers from the pack and put the rest in the fridge for later. As I close the door, he returns, carrying the pizza box. “I hope you’re okay with pepperoni. I went simple tonight.”
“Perfect.” It’s exactly what we used to order as teenagers, long before they had all the fancy options.
We each grab a couple of slices and sit at the bar. It’s quiet for a while, each of us staring straight ahead and chewing. Every time I finish a bite, I try to think of something to say. I need to break the silence but can’t find the words. Not unless I’m going to blurt out my feelings for him. As much as I want to, it’s probably not the best choice. “Are we good?” It’s not eloquent, but it’s what I can come up with right now, and I need to say something, or I’ll explode.
“Sorry. I’m caught up in some work stuff and distracted. I’m terrible company tonight.” He sets down the slice of pizza he’s eating and turns toward me.
“I wouldn’t say that. Do you want to talk about it?” The silence drags on, and for a minute, I worry he might ask me to leave.
“We have this big fundraiser coming up in two months, and since we’ve been short-staffed, I’ve been trying to help out the best I can while doing my usual stuff. It’s always a bit crazy, but lately, it feels out of control.”
“Uh-huh. I’m guessing you’re so good at the stuff you’re helping with that people keep bringing you more to do.” Some things never change.
“I’ve been there for a long time, which means I’ve been to many of these events. Even though they aren’t my responsibility, I think I have a better picture of the results than many people in charge of it.”
“You’ll still do almost anything someone asks you to do. You’re too nice. Is that why you’ve been working late so much? And why is the kitchen table a makeshift desk?”
He winces as he glances at the kitchen table. “It’s a small office. We all pick up the slack for each other. Plus, their stuff impacts mine.”
I point toward the stacks of papers on his kitchen table. “It’s only been a few weeks since I was here last, and I can already tell that those have grown exponentially.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” I raise my eyebrows at him as I sip my beer.
“It’s only two more months. Then things will go back to normal.” I want to argue with him, but I’m not sure I know him well enough anymore to push back. All the examples I have are from high school, which isn’t a fair fight for either of us.
“Are you at least taking care of yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“Eating, sleeping?” He waves a hand over the pizza on the counter as though the gesture answers the question. “Fine, if you don’t want to talk about yourself, tell me about this fundraiser. Any fun?”
“Probably for other people. For me, it’s work. I spend the night sucking up to donors and pretending to laugh at their jokes.”
“Well, I’m sure they all find it thrilling.” I’ve been to my fair share of hospital fundraising events over the years. They look way more fun from the outside than when you’re there in person.
